Family Portrait
by Abby-Jade-Love
Summary: Meet Vira Salvatore. It's 1857 and Vira is finding out that everything she's ever been told about who she was is a lie. Her mother- the only one with answers- is dead, and Vira turns to her journal for the truth. Part 1 of the trilogy.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! So, those of you who added me as an author alert were probably expecting this to be an update for _Flying Through Twilight _or _Flight of the Tides._ Which, now that I write them together, it makes them sound a lot alike... I'll have to change that. Anyway, I've been blocked from _Flying Through Twilight _for a very long time and if I updated it tonight, it would be crap. I wish I could redo it but I really don't like _Twilight _so it would turn into an OOC parody. And, to be honest, _Maximum Ride _hasn't been the best recently either. The new book _Angel _comes out Monday! It comes out on Valentines Day. If that isn't a sign that it's going to be a total screw up, then I don't know what is. What's promising is the eighth and final book's release date: 2012. Apocalypse, anyone? James Patterson had better not mess _that _up.**

**Wow, that rant was getting way too long. Sorry. Anyway, I would be updating _Flight of the Tides_ but I lost my copy of _The Titan's Curse_ so I have no reference point until I either a) get a new copy or b) find my old one. But I promise I'll update as soon as I get the book! I have so many ideas flowing for that right now, it's not even funny. I have the entire story planned out and a general sketch for the sequel (which I am really looking forward to). So, for now, I will be writing a new story for _Vampire Diaries._ Does anyone else think that season two is not as good as season one was? Still awesome, I mean, it has Ian Sexy-halder in it, after all. Just not as good.**

**Anyway! I have to stop ranting... This story came from one of my random spazzes when I see a moment in a show and think "wow, that would have worked out so differently if [insert character here] from [insert piece of entertainment] was in it..." I get those a lot. Originally, it was going to be _another Maximum Ride _crossover, but I decided that a) I already had too many of those and b) the flock wasn't really necessary and neither were the wings so I just made Max's role in the story into an OC's role. Anyway, tell me what you think. Oh! And this starts in 1857, 7 years before everything with Katherine and the vampires so the Salvatore brothers are still human. **

**Okay, sorry for the super long author's note. They're usually not this bad, I promise!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries. I do own Vira and this plot line. Any copyright infringement is unintentional and I offer my sincere apologies. **

**On with the story!**

**Vira's Point of View**

"Hello, Mr. Gilbert, how are you?" I asked, my voice polite and proper... and also very fake. My mind was not focused on the situation. Instead, it was out in the barn with the horses. Damon and Stefan were so lucky to be boys. They had so many freedoms that women did not. They were respected. I, however, was not allowed to do anything that my sexist, controlling father does not approve of. Whenever I wanted to go out and ride- wearing Damon's trousers, of course. How was one supposed to ride in the stupid dresses that modern society forced women into?- I would have to sneak out or wait for Father to leave on business, leaving Stefan in charge because, of course, Damon was untrustworthy and I was just a girl who was to be played with and pushed around, not to be respected. Then, I would go out to the barn, without Stefan knowing, of course, because he would just tell Father, and ride my beautiful black mare, Desdemona. But, because Father was indeed home and Jonathan Gilbert was lurking around the house, I was stuck playing the "seen-but-never-heard" role of a woman in the nineteenth century.

"I'm very well, Miss Salvatore. And yourself?" He commented in a patronizing voice. Jonathan Gilbert had to be the most arrogant man I'd ever met. Well, besides Damon, of course, but he's different.

"I am good, Mr. Gilbert," I said, stiffly, careful not to give away any "get-away-from-me-you-arrogant-asshole" vibes that were trapped inside of me about to explode. "What is your business here?" _Oops... I might have sounded a _little _too sharp. _If he noticed anything, however, he didn't show it. His face still held that "I'm so important" sneer that made me want to kick him.

"I'm actually here to speak with your father. Is he available?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir," I said, still using the phony voice that made me sick. "He's in the study. Should I go get him?"

"Of course. I'll wait here." Yes, no doubt to snoop around my family's house. Despite my feelings, however, I turned out of the parlor and walked down the hallway, only stopping when I reached the door to Father's study. I was forbidden from entering, just like everybody else, even though I was his own daughter. Not even Stefan was allowed inside. I lightly rapped on the door.

"Father," I called, raising my voice so I could be heard through the doors. "Mr. Gilbert is here to see you."

"I shall be out in a minute." His voice was firm and impatient, as if he didn't want to have to talk to his own daughter and he was irritated that I'd interrupted him. I didn't know what Father did in there, I'd never been inside, but when he wasn't meeting with the Founder's Council or trying to find suitors for me- I mean, really, I'm only thirteen!- he was locked away in his study, shut off from the rest of the world, buried in his thoughts and secrets.

The cedar doors creaked open and my father stepped out of his niche. He looked down at me with an air of distaste and indifference. "Where is Mr. Gilbert?"

"In the parlor, sir."

He nodded, stiffly. "Thank you, Elvira." Ugh, I _hate _that name. Only Father and Stefan call me that (though Stefan picked up that particular habit from Father, so he's not really to blame for that). "Get back to your knitting so Mrs. Lockwood is not as disappointed in next week's lesson. And have a maid moisturize your hands with lotion. Mrs. Lockwood was complaining about the callouses- from what, I don't know- on your palms and fingers and it is unbecoming for a young lady to have rough hands."

I gritted my teeth. The callouses had been from Desdemona's reigns and climbing the fence to get to the barn. The fence was tall, wooden, rough, and it had many splinters. So, of course it "damaged" my hands, but I no longer felt the pain. These so-called "callouses" would not go away anytime soon. But, not wanting to anger Father, I swallowed my retort with all the strength inside of me and said,"Yes, sir." Please. More like "yes, you sexist bastard, I'll do what you say. But really, I'll be sneaking off into the barn to groom Desdemona."

Satisfied with my lie, he turned and closed the study doors behind him then walked into the parlor, never once looking back at his only daughter. Just as I was about to walk up to Damon's room to borrow some trousers, I noticed something. The door to the always-locked room-of-secrets had gotten caught on a loose screw that had come undone from the knob and remained unlocked. I gasped. It was open?

Curiosity filled me and my mind reeled. This could be it: the only chance I'd ever have to look behind those doors and see all that's hidden there. I knew it was forbidden, but since when have I ever followed the rules?

I grabbed the knob in my hand and slowly pulled the door open, hearing it creek and hoping Father was far enough away that he wouldn't hear it as well. I lightly tip-toed into the study and shut the door behind me. I looked around and was instantly awed. It was a library. The walls were covered will shelves filled with leather-bound ancient-looking books. In the center of the room, there was a dark cedar desk that was covered with pile upon pile of papers. On top of the desk, there was an open black leather journal. It was opened to today's date. My irritating sense of curiosity took over again and before I could stop myself, I'd picked up the book and began to read.

_June 29, 1857_

_It's been three years now and still the secrets of the Book remain impossible for me to decipher. The words are like a puzzle with one piece missing. It's extremely frustrating that I can not uncover the truth. She must have known I was going to find out what she was at some point and decided to protect her work. But they will not remain secrets for much longer. I _will _find the answer._

_Luckily, the children do not suspect anything of vampires or witches. They are convinced that the fire was an accident and that the sole purpose of the Founder's Council was to keep this town strong. This journal and the grimoires are all kept hidden away in my study for a reason. If the children were to find out... But they haven't and they won't. The secrets of Josephine are safe._

_G.S._

I frowned and my eyebrows furrowed. Witches? Vampires? And Josephine? What did my mother have to do with this? What secrets does my mother- and, apparently, my father- have? Had my father finally gone crazy? Had his stories and legends finally drove him mad? And what of these grimoires he wrote of? They're witches spell books. Was _that _what all these books were?

I turned, setting the journal down, and picked up the nearest book of the shelf. There was no title but a simple name written on the spine.

_Abigail Williams._

My confusion only increased. Abigail Williams? _The _Abigail Williams? Abigail start-of-the-witch-hunt Williams? I opened the book and saw writing in a different language. Latin? Galician, maybe? Either way, it looked like chanting.

_Exorto os catro elementos para alcanzar o meu desexo  
Eu chamo o chan firme da terra para o meu círculo  
Que traia de decisión e foco  
Eu chamo a forza da auga mastestic meu círculo  
Que limpar e eliminar calquera potencias estranxeiras  
Eu chamo de luz e aire elevada para o meu círculo  
Que iso levanto a miña forza e amosar a miña posición dominante  
E por último, Exorto Fire  
Pode queimar todos os inimigos que veñen contra min  
E agora, chamamento a Morte  
Chamamento aos espíritos, de medo, de dor e sufrimento  
Eu chamo os mortos para servir-me na miña xornada_

I pulled back, tearing my eyes off the page. I don't know what that said but I got the most horrible feeling as if someone had stepped over my grave and called upon my soul, disturbing me from rest.

"A spell," I whispered, amazed. I put the book back on the shelf and began to scan other names.

Guinevere of Camelot- I gasped at that. Queen Guinevere- _King Arthur's Guinevere_- was a witch?- Theresa Fairchild, Isabella Carver, Morgan le Fey- not so much of a shock- Elizabeth Miller, and so on. I kept moving along the shelves until I reached one and the surprise hit me so hard, I fell backwards onto the floor, tripping over the carpet, falling against the desk.

Josephine Salvatore.

**Yeah, so I'd totally write more, but a) I kinda wanted a cliffie (yes, I'm evil and no, I don't want you to hate me) and b) I have to babysit in like 15 minutes, so I have to go. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Review please! (By the way, I promise it'll pick up in the next couple of chapters!)**

**Thanks! Now review or I'll snap your neck!**

**All my love,**

**AJL**

**P.S. Hailey, if you're reading this, I love you! You the weirdest person in the world and only _you _could come up with that. ALL of that credit goes to you.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey, guys! So, it's been a while since I've updated. I have more written out but I haven't had the time or internet access to update. But, anyway, I hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _The Vampire Diaries_ books or the TV show. The books belong to L. J. Smith and all rights to the show belong to the CW.**

**Enjoy!**

**AJ**

**Vira's POV**

My mother? She was a witch? How was that possible? I picked up the book that had fallen with a _thud _to the ground. Opening it, I found that the pages is this journal were newer than those from the grimoires of Guinevere and Abigail. But, just like the others, they were covered in a strange foreign language that was difficult to identify. I closed the book and turned once again to my father's journal. When I saw what was before me, I gasped. Before I'd even touched it, the book had opened on its own, flipping through the pages and landing on a specific day.

_February 23, 1854_

I inhaled sharply. February 23rd, 1854. That was the day my mom had died. She was stuck out in the shed and it caught fire, trapping her inside and ending her life. Bracing myself for whatever I was about to read, I started again.

_ Today, I discovered a monster. It was found in the form of my wife. She was a witch. I found her out in the shed. She was calling the Devil to plague this town. She looked up and saw me through the window. Before she could turn a spell on me, I locked the door, trapping her inside. I lit a match and set fire to it, killing her and stopping whatever sin she was about to commit._

_ Only the other council members know the truth. The rest of the town believes that an innocent woman was killed in an accidental arson. I, of course, played the role of grieving and vengeful husband, vowing to find whoever did this to her and kill him. Perhaps I shall blame one of the slaves... they are disposable, after all. The town must believe that the Salvatores are simply a family in mourning. I will not have the family name disgraced with the mark of a witch._

_ The children don't know what their mother was- or, for that matter, that I killed her. They are merely children. They could never comprehend the threat and monstrosity that the witch was. I must keep them away from the truth. Ignorance is bliss._

_ Later, as I gathered her belongings together- and anything she'd ever given me or the children- I found her grimoire. I added it to the collection of books passed down the Salvatore line for generations. If I have my way, nobody shall know the truth._

_ GS_

I gasped, astonished and scared. If what I'd just read is true... my father is the reason my mother is dead.

I heard some shuffling outside the door and knew that Father must be returning to his study. I closed the journal and put the grimoire back on the shelf. Turning, I saw a door that must lead to another section of the study. I rushed over, opened the door, and slipped out of sight.

I slid down the wall, curling my knees into my chest, my heart racing. I started to shake and it wasn't until I'd tasted salty water in my mouth that I realized I was crying.

**So, really short. My apologies, but I don't really have time to add anymore tonight... two tests tomorrow and I'm already running on caffeine. Not a good idea for me to stay up any later.**

**Review please!**

**AJL**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for not updating sooner but you would not believe the stress that's been on my family with my mom leaving for Africa for three weeks and my dad having to take care of me and my sister and the projects, papers, and essays my teachers have all assigned in the same week and driver's ed... it's been chaotic, at best. But all of that is gone now... for the most part... and I'll have time to update more often!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Vampire Diaries nor any of it's characters which belong to L. J. Smith with TV rights to the CW.**

I must have been in there for hours until I finally heard the door to the study open then close again, alerting me of Father's departure. I stood up and silently turned the knob on the door, cursing myself as it creaked open. _What if father had still been here? _But, fortunately, there was no sign of my father in sight. I crept over to the shelves with the grimoires and grabbed it, taking it down. I slipped out the door and down the hall, careful to be as quiet as possible. I took silent steps up the stairs and slid past Father's room, hearing loud, obnoxious snoring. I passed Stefan's room with ease and it wasn't until I'd reached Damon's room that the floorboard creaked, betraying me to my older brother. Damon opened the door.

"Vira?" He asked in a foggy voice. "What are you doing up?"

Confused by his question, I regarded his attire: loose nightclothes and bare feet. I quick glance out the window informed me of the darkness that overtook the town. I realized then that Damon's foggy voice came from sleep. It was nightfall. Well past midnight, if the moon showed anything.

"Damon," I whispered in a hoarse voice.

"Father was looking for you earlier," he said, the fog in his voice fading away with every word that left his mouth. "I figured you were in the barn with Desdemona, so I said you'd gone to visit Jessamine Forbes to talk about her upcoming billdungsroman ball. I went to the barn to look for you, but you weren't there. Were you sneaking around in the forest again?" He asked, his voice becoming teasing.

I finally spoke up, but did not lift my head. Damon had always been able to read me well, and I was afraid he'd sense something in me if he saw my face. "No," I said shakily. "I was in Father's study."

His eyes widened and he let out a breathy chuckle. "How on Earth did you manage that?"

I took a deep breath, steeling myself, hardening my jaw, then lifted my eyes to meet his. He took one look at my tear-streaked face and his expression changed from incredulous to concerned in a heartbeat. He pulled me into a hug and I wrapped my arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. At thirteen, I was just tall enough to level with his neck.

"What's wrong, Vi? What happened?"

I pulled back from the hug but still stayed close to him. "Can... can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"Promise not to tell Father," I said, looking him in the eye challenging him, though I don't know why I did. Damon had always kept my secrets.

"I promise, Vira."

Because I trusted him, I nodded. He opened the door to his room and walked in. I went after him and sat on his bed, which was difficult given the dress I was in and looked up at him.

"So what's going on?" He whispered as if we were a huge part in a confederate conspiracy. Normally, we would both have laughed, but I wasn't in the mood. All the information I'd learned today was setting in and I didn't feel like it was a good time to be humorous. So instead, I just patted the bed next to me and waited for him to sit down for the story-telling.

When he was in position, I held out the grimoire. "What's this?" He asked, taking from my hands and turning it over. Looking at the spine, he read it aloud. "Josephine Salvatore?" His curious voice morphed into one of pain. We were both old enough at the time of her death to feel sadness. Stefan was almost lucky. He may have grown up without a mother, but he didn't know what he was missing. He doesn't know what it's like to love and to be loved in the way only a mother can and then have that ripped away. Damon and I... we could remember it all; the looks of pity; the tears; the whispers.

"I found this in his study. There were several just like this one, each belonging to a different person. Abigail Williams, Queen Guinevere, Morgan Le Fey, Theresa Fairchild, and more."

He looked at me, clearly alarmed. "Those are all the names of..."

"Witches." I finished the sentence for him when he was unable to continue. I nodded. "Exactly. Those books... they're grimoires: a witch's spell book."

"Mom was a witch?" He asked, disbelieving. Not of me, but I suppose out of shock.

I nodded again, grimly. "And that's not all. There's something else."

He looked up at me, warily. "What?"

I started speaking slowly, unsure how to say this. "O, Damon, by the way, vampires exist, Mom was a witch, and Father killed her." Yes, that would go very well. Not. So, instead, I started talking cautiously, like I was walking on broken glass without shoes. "Well," I began. "I read a few pages of Father's journal. I saw an entry from the day she died and... well, you know my curiosity."

"Yeah," he said, smiling warily.

"Her death... it wasn't an accident, Damon."

"What do you mean?"

"She was killed."

Fury took over him and he stood up, throwing the book on the bed. "Who killed her?" he snarled.

I swallowed hard, holding back tears. "Father dead," I said, my throat catching. "He saw her in the shed doing a spell... he locked her in and then set the place on fire, killing her in the process."

He fell back on the bed softly, disbelieving. "No..." He put his head in his hands. "Is this true?"

"Yes," I said, tears spilling down my face freely now at the sight of my older brother so distraught. "Every word. I promise."

He began shaking and that's how I knew her was crying. Nothing but our mother could make him act like this. I'd only seen him cry twice: when she died and now. I sat down next to him, wrapping my arms around his waist in a hug. He put an arm around my shoulder, drawing me closer and rubbing my back and we cried the night away.

I woke up the next morning in a fog. _Strange dream, _the optimistic side of me thought. The realistic part of me hadn't woken up yet. I opened my eyes then realized I was not in my room but in Damon's, still in yesterday's clothed. I looked at the foot of the bed and saw the grimoire lying there on top of the sheets. I sighed. _Not a dream, then._

I looked out the window and saw the sun barely rising. It was just before dawn. I knew what I had to do. I grabbed a pen and paper from Damon's desk that he never uses and wrote a quick note.

_D-_

_ I'm going out for a ride on Des. _

_ Taking the book with me. If Father asks, _

_ I spent the night at Jessamine's._

_ Thanks. Love always,_

_ V_

I left the note on the bed and borrowed a shirt and trousers from his wardrobe. After I changed, I slipped on a pair of his old boots that he kept for me so I could go riding. I grabbed a bag and stuffed the grimoire and a coat inside it. I left the room and crept downstairs, but I was caught by the servants.

"Hello, Vira." My handmaid called.

"Good morning, Evaline," I smiled politely.

"It's not morning yet, dearie. Why are you up at this hour? You wouldn't happen to be sneaking out would you?"

I shuffled my feet and gave a sheepish smile."Now why would I ever want to do that?"

"Hmm," she said, rubbing her chin and pretending to think. "Maybe to disobey your father and go riding? I'm assuming because of your current ensemble."

I smiled again, but my heart wasn't in it. There was too much on my mind for that. "I know I shouldn't risk it, but I need this today. If Father asks, though I'm sure he won't, tell him that I'm at the Forbes' plantation and that I never came home."

"Alright, dear. I hope you can clear your mind. You know if you need anything, you can come to me." She clasped her hand around mine and patted my cheek affectionately. "Be back before dinner, would you?"

I nodded. "Of course."

"Vira!" I turned to see our chef, Andre, running down the corridor.

"Andre! Sh! You'll wake my father!"

"Darling, you and I both know that nothing could wake your father at this hour."

I shrugged a shoulder, knowing it was true. "I guess you're right, but if you don't mind, I'm trying to be cautious."

He smiled at me. "Of course. I just wanted to give you this before you took off." He held out a basket. "Breakfast! And something for Desdemona, as well."

I accepted it. "Thank you, Andre." I smiled at him, just now realizing that I hadn't dined since lunch yesterday.

"Not a problem, mademoiselle." He smiled and bowed, jokingly.

I turned and silently opened the door, creeping out into the sunrise.

**A/N: I think four pages is enough for one chapter and that's actually twice what it was going to be. I'll update soon.**

**Review, s'il vous plait.**

**AJL**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I have a reason- several of them actually- but I don't have the time or patience to list them all.**

**Anyway, here's the new chapter of _Family Portrait _which was named after the P!nk song.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries or its characters, I only own my character, Vira, and the plot line. Everything else belongs to the producers and LJ Smith.**

I slid the barn door open and crept inside. Desdemona was the first horse on the left. "Hey, Des," I whispered, picking up a comb and running it through her long black mane. "How are you, girl?" I rubbed her nose and she snorted against my fingers. I giggled. "Well, I'm glad you're feeling good, Des, but unfortunately I can't say the same for myself. What do you say? Are you up for a ride?" She whinnied and jerked her head up and down. I grinned. "That's my girl."

I saddled her up and climbed, placing my feet in the stirrup. Nudging her, I eased her forward, sliding the door closed behind us. Once we reached the forest and the trail was in sight, I clicked my tongue and she sped into a canter. "Good girl," I said, leaning down to rub her neck. The path to the meadow was dangerous. It climbed up a steep hill with many drop-offs and hollow grounds. On top of that, even the stable ground was not safe. There were several jagged rocks. Sometimes, I'd spend at least an hour removing the rubble from Desdemona's hooves. Once, I found a real arrowhead from the time when the Native Americans were free to live here as they pleased. This was before President Andrew Jackson sent them away. I wasn't alive during the time he was leader, but father tells stories. He speaks of him respectfully. He believes, and I quote, "Now there's a man who knows the ranking of people in the world. He knows who's inferior to others and who deserves to be at the top." You can probably guess that Father is pro-slavery as well. He hates the North. According to him, they've lost sense of what's important. What's important to my father is money and status and he wants high quality of both, no matter who he has to hurt along the way.

This, of course, has caused some incidents along the years. One night in particular will remain in my brain like a scorch mark.

_Flashback_

_I'd just gotten home for dinner. I'd been out riding in the meadow. My father had been invited to a lunch in town so he would be gone the whole day. Before sunset, though, it was quite evident he'd returned. After all, nobody else in Mystic Falls can scream that loud._

_ "You worthless piece of dirt! How dare you drive the carriage so rough? I was slammed into the side at least seven times! _Seven!_ At least three will leave a bruise! What do you say to that, you insolent little good-for-nothing rodent?" My father spat. He was furious at the man- whoever he is. Walking around the corner, my eyes fell on the scene. On the ground in front of my father was a boy- no older than me- dressed in rags and covered in dirt. There was blood on his cheek from where someone- presumably my father- had struck him with a cane. I'd seen this boy before, around the mansion, working. He was one of the slaves, though I _hate _that title. Nobody should work as hard as people like him do and get nothing for it. And now my father was complaining, about what? A little discomfort on the ride? We were not Romans! Our roads are made of dirt and rocks. What did he expect? Streets of gold? Now the poor boy was being scolded for nothing. How could anyone have done any better?_

_ My father reached into his cloak, then and an admiration for the boy grew inside of me because when my father pulled out his whip, the boy didn't even flinch. He just stared at the ground in front of my father's feet. I turned back around the corner, unable to watch, yet something made me listen to what was about to happen. I heard a whistle of wind and the crack when the whip first made contact sounded as if it were right by my ear._

Snap!

_ Then a scream of pain._

_ I choked on my own spit. Sliding down the wall, I felt hot tears invade my eyes. I curled so my knees were pressed against my chest as if it could somehow stop the pain that was about to come to the boy._

Snap!

_ A scream no less heart wrenching than the last followed the second strike._

_ I must have sat there for an hour waiting for it to stop. I counted fifty-seven hits and thirty-four screams. I think he must have passed out from pain after the thirty-forth lash if he wasn't dead now, he would be soon. But still, my father continued without hesitation. Finally, when it seemed as though it would go on forever, he was interrupted._

_ "Mr. Salvatore!'_

_ Never in my life had I been more relieved to hear the voice of Jonathan Gilbert._

_ "Mr. Gilbert, I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but as you can see, I'm a little busy at the moment."_

_ "Yes, I realize. I'm sorry to interrupt but there's been an emergency. The mayor has called a council meeting."_

_ "Of course," I heard my father say. "I'll be there straightaway."_

_ And he left, leaving the unconscious boy alone, laying in the dirt._

_End_

That was several months ago. A normal girl of my age would have fainted afterwords but, as I assume you've guessed by now, I'm not exactly the type to act "normal". I ran. Not away, to hide like most would, but to Damon.

_ "Damon!" I screamed, running up the stairs, which was made easier by the trousers and boots I was wearing than it would have been if I'd been in a gown. "Damon!" I called again, dashing through the halls. "Damon!" I met him at his door just as he opened it._

_ He grabbed my arms to steady me before I could collapse. "Whoa! Calm down, Vira! What happened?"_

_ "Damon, Father was beating a boy out in front of the house. He's hurt! Father left but the boy is still passed out!" I managed to get out through my gasps of breath._

_ "Vira! Relax. Breathe!" Doing as he said, I took slow breaths, in and out, feeling my heart rate decrease gradually. "Now," my brother said, looking at me. "Why don't we go help him? Yeah?"_

_ "Yeah." _

_ We rushed outside. By now it was nightfall and the darkness covered us. I shivered from the cold winter air as it bit my face when we ran to the boy. "He's over there." I pointed to the side of the house. When we reached him, he was laying on the ground, twisted and still. Kneeling next to him, I thought for a moment he was dead. Damon felt his neck with two fingers._

_ "There's a pulse, but he's going to bleed out if we don't get him inside. I'll carry him to my room. You go to the cabinet and find the medical supplies. But _be quiet._ Father would kill us if he found out what we were doing."_

_ I rushed inside, not having to be told twice. Opening it, I saw a basket of supplies including cloth and bandages. I'm not a doctor, so I didn't know what we needed. Unable to make a decision, I grabbed everything then sped upstairs, quietly creeping past Stefan's door then bursting through Damon's. Walking over to the bed where Damon was kneeling next to the boy, I gave him the basket._

_ "I didn't know what to grab, so I got everything I could see. I was hoping you knew."_

_ "This is good. Run a cloth under water would you?"_

_ Frantically, I nodded, then ran into his bathroom. Shaking, I opened the cabinet then grabbed the washcloth. Fumbling with the knob, I turned on the cold water and soaked it then ran back into the room where Damon was cutting the shirt off the boy, revealing deep, jagged slices all down his back. "H-here." _

_ As he took the cloth from me, Damon dabbed the boy's cuts and cleaned them with the water. Then, he turned to me. "Hand me the peroxide and another clean cloth please."_

_ I nodded. "Sure." I fetched another washcloth from the cabinet then gave him both that and the bottle. It bubbled when it came in contact with the boy's skin. A hissing sound came from the alcohol. When the bubbling had stopped, Damon wrapped the boy in gauze and then began to pat the boy's forehead with the wet cloth. "Let me," I said and he surrendered the towel. Dabbing at the sweat that coated his body, I sighed. "Get some sleep, Damon. I'll stay up."_

_ "No, Vira, you should rest. Let me do it." His voice was soft and clouded with drowsiness. He was exhausted and needed a few good hours sleep. I, however, wouldn't even be able to blink until the boy was well. I was too haunted by what my father had done. How could anyone do this to another human?_

I think that was when I first started to realize that my father wasn't good. I don't hate him but nobody with a conscience could ever be able to harm someone innocent. My disgust grew further when I grew closer to the boy and it continues to grow today, morphing into hatred for what he did to my mother.

_All night, I tended to him, wiping his forehead, cleaning his wounds, wrapping his cuts, and making sure his fever didn't get too high. Damon eventually fell victim to sleep but I stayed up, watching the boy. Unable to sit still, I paced the room, leaving tracks in the carpet. I listened to nothing but Damon's quiet breathing until I heard a groan coming from the direction of the bed._

_ "Are you awake?" I asked the mysterious boy._

_ His eyes opened slightly and his pupils dilated, adjusting to the dark of the room. The only light currently shining was from a small candle in the corner by the vanity. His gaze locked on me and he inhaled a sharp breath. When he finally spoke, his voice was weak and trembling, which was to be expected after the pain he'd gone through. His words surprised me, though."I- I know you..."_

_ My eyes scrunched up. "Do you?"_

_ "Y-yes... Why am I here, Miss Salvatore?" _

He's afraid, _I realize. _He doesn't want to be whipped again._ "It's alright. My brother and I brought you in so we could tend to your injuries."_

_ "W-why?"_

_ "Why?" I repeated his question. "What do you mean, why? Because you were hurt!"_

_ "B-but, Miss Salvatore-"_

_ I scrunched my nose and scowled at the name. "Please. Call me Vira. I did save your life after all," I joked. He didn't laugh, just laid there looking at me with a curious expression. I sighed. "What's your name?"_

_ "Harper."_

_ "Well," I smiled, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Harper, although it's not under pleasant circumstances."_

_ "You- you helped me."_

_ I sighed, exasperated. "Yes. We already covered this."_

_ "B-but... I'm your slave. You aren't supposed to help me."_

_ "Oh, for the love of God..." I ran my hand through my long, black hair. "Do you want to be laying outside, face-down in the dirt?"_

_ "No, of course not. But-" He protested again."_

_ "Look," I said, firmly. "My father may believe it's perfectly alright to leave a bleeding boy on the ground and even to be the one who caused him to bleed, but I don't."_

_ He looked shocked. Really, we're doing this again? "You're very nice to me..."_

_ I sighed again. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"_

_ "Well, because you're fair-skinned. They hate us."_

_ Dear God, is this the impression we've been leaving on people? That we hate them? That they're lower than us and don't deserve to be treated humanely? "Not me. And not my brothers. Or, one of them at least." I nodded my head towards the man sleeping in the chair. "Damon helped me take care of you._

_ "Th-thank you, Miss." His voice was cautious, almost as if he expected to be hit again._

_ I rolled my eyes."Oh, please, don't call me that. My name is Vira and I would like to be addressed by it."  
_

_ "Alright, mi- I mean, Vira." He seemed hesitant, still. I decided to lighten the mood a bit._

_ Giving him a coy smile, I said, "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it, Harper?"_

Since that day, Harper and I have become close friends. I spent a week and a half hiding him in the room from my father and tending to him until he was healed. I visit him down in the barn often when Father is away and occasionally when he's not- though, I'd most likely get in trouble for speaking to "a no good, lousy, piece-of-vermin" to quote my father. But I didn't care. I don't have many friends because I'm so different from the other girls in town, so I cherish the ones I have. That pretty much means Evaline, Andre, and Harper. Damon, too, of course, but he's my brother. That's totally different. And Desdemona. She's the closest friend I have. I swear she can hear me when I talk to her and she understands. It's like she reads my thoughts and, for all I know, she very well could. Horses are very intuitive.

Speaking of the mare, she neighed, signaling our arrival at the meadow. It was far past the boundaries of town so it was highly unlikely for anyone to find us here. I climbed out of the saddle and took it off Desdemona's back, along with the pad, blanket, girth, and bridle and laid them on a tree branch. I trusted Des not to run away without me so I didn't tie her up, I just let her graze on the grass. I walked over to the old drooping willow that hung over the pond and plopped down on the soft moss. I took off Damon's boots and socks, letting my feet get air. As I undid my hair, my long black waves fell over my shoulders and around my face. I reached inside the sack and brought out the book. The words were still there, burning through my eyes into my mind. _Josephine Salvatore._

I breathed out in a sigh. Part of me had hoped I'd been dreaming, but here it was; proof that my mother really was a witch. I ran my hand over the leather cover once more before opening it. The first thing I'd realized was that the writing wasn't foreign to me anymore. It was English. Well, most of it, at least. There were chants written in Gaelic that I supposed had to be read in that specific language. I was somehow able to understand them still. Taking a deep breath, I began to read.

_November 30th, 1825_

_ My name is Josephine Mason. Today, I found out I was a witch. Apparently, it was supposed to be explained to me long ago, but my mother died when I was three and I've been living with my father's brother, who knows absolutely nothing of it, ever since, so there went that. Today, however, was my birthday and apparently that meant I needed to be informed of the secrets. It started when an old woman showed up at the door this morning._

_ She was dressed in tattered robes and her hair was covered in an old bonnet. I answered the door and when I did I called to my handmaid, Sarah, for help. Together, we got her inside and warm- it's quite cold today, even for a Fall day in the mountains. Sarah fetched us some tea and then left me to talk to the woman. She introduced herself as just Tabby. I told her my name and she said she already knew and that she'd been looking for me for a while. When I asked her how she knew me, she said nothing but "You look like her." I asked her who she meant and she said, "Libby." Libby was my mom's name. Well, Elizabeth, but no one called her that. It was Mrs. Mason or Libby. Never Elizabeth._

_I asked her how she knew my mom and she responded by telling my the truth about who she was. She's my mother's mother. My grams. I was so shocked, I fell silent. Then the questions flew out of my mouth with no control. Why hadn't she come sooner? Why hadn't she came when my mom died? Why was she here now? Apparently, my father had sent me away so she couldn't come near me. As for the last question? "It's time for you to know your birthright." And so she told me everything. How my mother died from a spell-gone-wrong, how my father sent me away so I wouldn't know about any of this, and how I was a witch. Most girls my age are excited when they find out that the boy they fancy may be interested in them, or when their father buys them an entire wardrobe of Paris original gowns. But not me. No, I find out I'm a witch and that all the women in my mother's bloodline were witches, too. Apparently, it's just the women. No male-witches (which, I supposed, would be called warlocks). I rather prefer the witch thing, to be honest. It's much less boring._

_ Tabby and I talked for a while longer. She says I have to train to become as strong as I can be. I'm a little scared, to be honest. I don't want to fail this. It's my one link to my mother. Speaking of, Tabby gave me her journal/ book of spells- a grimoire. That's what she says this will become. A grimoire. _My _grimoire. It's surreal. In all honesty, the hardest part is going to be leaving Aunt Lottie and Uncle Cyrus. Despite the circumstances under which I came to be with them, they've raised me as if I were their own daughter. They understand, though, what I must do, and I'll be spending plenty of time here, but I must move in with Tabby and the rest of the Nash witches. Nash... That's their name. Libby Nash was my mother... Tabby Nash is my grams... It's unbelievable. And to think, I was expecting flowers for my birthday. Nope, I get a family secret instead._

_ I'm afraid I must go now, dear grimoire, to start my new life._

_ Josephine_

After reading the first entry, I sat back against the tree and gasped. This was my mother's entire life story from the time she found out she was a witch to the time she died. I sat there and read for hours. I read about her first spell (levitating a book), when Tabby died, meeting the other Nash witches, falling in love for the first time with a nearby warlock only to be betrayed, and when she found out about vampires. Everything was so interesting, I was on edge the entire time, especially the first time she met a vampire.

_April 23__rd__, 1828_

_ Today, something curious occurred. I met a girl, Annabelle. She looks about my age, but she's not. We met at the ball and when I shook her hand, I felt something run through me. It's what I imagine death to feel like. Not just the pain of seeing it, because I was very familiar with that experience, but having it happen to you. How is it possible that someone who's dead can walk the earth? I didn't have __an answer and when I asked her what had happened to her, she merely tilted her head and asked me if I was a witch. Too startled to lie, I told her the truth and she smiled. "Ask your mentor, Miss Nash. She should be able to explain it to you." When I told her that Tabby had died a year ago, she gave me a sympathetic pat on the arm and told me that this wasn't a good conversation to have in public. When she said that, she glanced over to two people, one girl not a year older than us and another who I presumed was her mother. They were deep in conversation and didn't notice us. Annabelle turned to me again and quietly whispered, "Meet me by the town gates at midnight. I'll tell you everything, but not here." I nodded and she walked toward the two women. I'm going to go tonight. I shouldn't, but I must. Tabby always said my curiosity would get the better of me one day. _

_ Wish me luck,_

_ Josephine_

The next entry was from the next day.

_April 24__th__, 1828_

_ I went last night, to meet her. Annabelle. I was scared, yes, but I had to know the truth, and, let me tell you, it wasn't what I was expecting. I'd thought maybe she'd been brought back to life or had a near-death experience, but I never once thought she was a vampire. I was scared and I didn't know what to do. She'd said she wouldn't hurt me, but could I believe her? She offered to "compel" me-which, as I understand, is like mind control- and erase my memories, but I didn't want her too. Memories are too precious. I learned that from Old Lady Monroe, back at Aunt Lottie and Uncle Cyrus's house. A few years ago, before I knew I was a witch, there was an old woman in the village. Most people, as I've already said, called her Old Lady Monroe. I just called her Marianne. We spent a lot of time together in the garden behind her house, walking, talking, and drinking tea. She fell ill one day and became delusional. She was hardly ever conscious but when she was she was rarely coherent. She didn't remember anyone, including me. She was like that for a year before her death. She had one moment of clarity the night she died. I was with her. Her final words will remain etched into my brain forever. "Promise me something, Josie." I was so relieved she knew my name that I didn't hesitate before saying, "Anything." She took hold of my hand, clasping it desperately. "Promise me you won't ever forget. Promise me you'll keep your memories of life." "I promise, Marianne. I promise." She died soon after, still holding my hand. I cried for days. They wanted to bury her by the church like normal, but I begged my uncle to change their minds. She was cremated and her ashes were scattered amongst her favorite flowers- the lavender plants. Marianne would remain in the gardens forever and the gardens would remain in my memories. She'd taught me a valuable lesson and I intended to live by it. Letting Anna wipe my memories would be a disgrace to her. Besides, she's such a nice girl, vampire or otherwise. I could see us being close friends. But vampires need blood to survive. I wanted this town to be safe. How do I help the town but also trust a vampire?_

_ Confused and going insane,_

_ Josephine_

I took a deep breath, then proceeded to another entry. It was later that week.

_April 25, 1828_

_ I told Annabelle today that I wanted to keep my memories. We talked for a while about my decision and my doubts about the vampires in town. She assured me that no one would die by her or her mother unless they tried to kill them directly, but that she couldn't guarantee anything from the other vampires. Their leader, apparently named Katherine, was vicious and often manipulated men for blood and love. Other times, she would turn them or kill innocent people. I asked why she stayed with her and she said that her mom and Katherine were best friends. She didn't want to leave her mother and I understood instantly. Annabelle explained that there were ways to protect yourself against_

_vampires. An herb called vervain, sunlight- though most of the vampires there had rings that protected them, wooden stakes, and spells. She also revealed that a vampire couldn't enter a house without being invited in by it's owner. After our conversation, I went to Tabby's grimoire to see if anything had been said about vampires. She's never encountered one, but she did say where to get vervain. It's in a little field in the mountains. I'm going there tomorrow. I have to protect this town from vampires that would wish to harm it. I believe Annabelle and I like her. We could be friends one day, but for now, I have to help my friends._

_ Conflicted but determined,_

_ Josephine _

I laid back on the tree, watching the sunset. So this was what my mother had to go through. I wish she was still alive so I could talk to her. I miss her so much. Why was she taken from me?

Wait... I looked out on the horizon. Sunset! Oh, no! I have to get back before our dinner at the Lockwood's! Father will kill me if he notices my absence! I shoved the book back into the sack then re-saddled Desdemona. "Come on, girl," I said from my spot on her back. "We gotta go. I'm late." Holding Damon's boots in my hands, Des galloped all the way back to the barn, my hair flying behind with the wind.

**A/N: Okay, guys, that's the chapter. Eight pages... I'm proud of myself, though I really should have updated sooner. I really started typing this chapter a long time ago but I never got to finish and then I went to camp for three weeks (I just got back Saturday) but now I'm back with plenty of material.**

**Review please!  
**

**AJL**


	5. Chapter 5

Family Portrait

**Hello, my dearest readers. I apologize sincerely for the lack of updates despite having had 4 chapters written at the time of my last update. My computer crashed and I am currently using a school computer to type. Anyways, here's the new chapter!**

**The Vampire Diaries belongs to the CW and L.J. Smith. I own the character Vira and that's it.**

I just barely made it. Evaline was waiting in my room with a gown ready for me to wear. It was a dark blue color that enhanced my eyes and complimented my skin color. Oh, no. This means we'll be going out to dinner.

"Hurry dear! Your father has arranged for a dinner at the Lockwood manor tonight! You and your brothers are to be 'present and presentable'," she fussed.

I groaned and slipped into my dress. Evaline came behind me and began to tie my laces. "The Lockwoods? Is it absolutely essential that I be there? I really don't want to be approached by that insufferable son of there's again. He may be a friend of Damon's but George Lockwood is far from a gentleman."

"Don't worry, dear. I am to be your escort. I will not let that insolent boy near you. Although, I almost wish he _would_ come near. It would give me great satisfaction to see that smirk wiped from his face if you were to harm him." I made eye contact with her in the mirror, shocked for a moment, then I giggled and she joined in.

She pulled my hair with her fingers, twirling it, and then tying it up. When she was finished, my long black hair fell in ringlets down my face and across my shoulders, with nothing but a small, blue jewel clip pulling it out of my face. Looking at myself in the mirror, I gasped. I had on a royal blue, long sleeve dress with a silver pattern tracing my torso. The dress didn't have a corset, but it was comfortable fitting. (Outfit on profile) "This dress- it's my moms…" My voice trailed off in awe.

Evaline nodded and smiled at me. "Your father had another dress picked out, a hideous green one, but I thought you would like this better."

I wiped a tear from my eye. After everything that had happened today, everything that I'd learned, it was good to have a part of my mother with me. I turned to Evaline and embraced her. "Thank you," I whispered, kissing her cheek.

"You're very welcome." She smiled and patted my cheek. "Now, do you want to tell me why you were off in a rush this morning?"

"I needed to clear my head," I said, which was technically true. I just ended up learning so much about my mom that any sense of meditation or cleansing was impossible to achieve.

"Oh? And what is troubling you, dearie?" In that moment, her voice reminded me so much of my mother's that I wanted nothing more than to curl up in her lap like I was a little girl again and cry, confiding in her with all of my problems. As it was, Evaline sat me down on the bed and stroked my hair.

I hesitated, contemplating my answer. Instead of responding, I asked a question. "Can I trust you, Eva? If I tell you what's on my mind, do you promise not to tell anyone? No one may know about this, especially father!"

"Oh, please!" she huffed. "As if I'd ever tell that upstart anything! And besides, I'll always keep your secrets. You can trust me."

"W-well," I began but I didn't get a chance to say anything because at that moment there was a knock on my door. Evaline opened it to reveal Stefan standing in the hallway.

"Elvira," Stefan said in opening. I gritted my teeth. My little brother never did understand that I hated that name. "Father wants you downstairs. We are leaving now."

I nodded my consent. "Alright." I hooked my arm in Evaline's as I stood up and we walked down the staircase. The dress, though not as easy to walk in as the trousers I wore earlier, was a lot better for breathing than some of the other dresses father had bought for me, and for that I was grateful. Damon and Father were waiting for us in the parlor. They were arguing, of course, as they always did. Father was always disappointed in Damon. He had this idea that we all belonged to him, like we didn't have our own personalities. Damon was supposed to grow up and become the heir to the Salvatore family. Of course, Damon had other ideas. He wanted adventure, not boorish ownership. I was meant to be sold to a man- probably from another founding family, most likely the Lockwood boy- as a wife for dowry. Stefan was really the only one who had any choice and he wanted what Damon doesn't. That's why he's viewed as the favorite. Damon and I were too… rebellious. When my foot hit the last stair, the two at the bottom of the staircase turned to look at me. Damon's gaze was filled with worry and a message only I could read.

_ Are you okay?_

_ Fine. I'll tell you later._

Father gave me a once over. "You couldn't have worn the dress I picked out?"

I glared at him defiantly. "No."

"You look beautiful, Vi."

I turned to my older brother, smiling in gratitude. "Thank you, Damon. And you look _dashing_," I replied, smirking a bit on the last word. But honestly, I was grateful to Damon for commenting. I loved the way I look now, and Father putting it down was not doing anything but making me feel bad.

"Thank you, Vi." He returned my smirk.

"Wipe that look off your face, both of you," my father demanded. "And Elvira, we will talk about this when we get home."

I glared at my father. Would he dare bring up the dress? He does realize that this was Mom's and I'm not taking it off. Raising an eyebrow, I snapped. "You think you can tell me what to wear now? You don't own me and you don't control me!"

"Watch your mouth, brat! I could have you shipped off to Rosewood Ladies Academy in a heartbeat. The only reason you are not there now," he snarled, "is because Stefan has asked me to keep you here. You should be more grateful."

I sneered in his face. Of course he didn't care about me. He didn't care about Damon either; just Stefan. It was _always_ Stefan. I stepped back, both hurt and furious, angry tears leaking into my eyes, and ran into Damon, who wrapped his arms around me and whispered as Father walked towards the carriage.

"I want you here, Vi. Don't listen to him. I won't let him send you away, little sister. I promise." But still my spirits were not uplifted. If anything, I felt worse. Damon shouldn't have to promise me that. He should be worried about Father making him attend Westpoint in North Carolina, but he wasn't. He was never really concerned for himself- only for Stefan and me. Seeing that this didn't make me feel better, he tried again. "Hey, Vi, you know, you look beautiful tonight. Just like mom."

I smiled and leaned into him. "Thank you," I whispered.

He kissed my hair. "Anytime."

The carriage ride over to Lockwood Manor was tense. Evaline sent me concerned glances and Damon didn't let go of my hand. Stefan remained clueless but I couldn't blame him- he was, after all, only ten years old. Father glared at Damon and I as my brother stroked my hair and hummed an old lullaby in Italian that our mother used to sing to us.

_Fa la ninna, fa la nanna_

_Nella braccia della mamma_

_Flashback_

_Fa la ninna bel bambin,_

_Fa la nanna bambin bel,_

_Fa la ninna, fa la nanna_

_Nella braccia della mamma._

My mom was singing to me. I was a little girl, about five years old. The song was a lullaby I recognized. _Fa La Ninna, Fa La Nanna. _Suddenly, the singing stopped as the song ended. My mother's voice spoke to me even though I couldn't see her- my eyes were closed.

"Rest now, my child. Enjoy your time with your brothers in peace. My daughter, you have much coming for you in your life. My blood, my power… it lies within you. I'm sorry, my angel, that I've given you this curse."

The words were mumbled into my ear as I fell asleep in my mother's arms. When she said it in Italian, I finally understood. It was the reason I could read the journals, what lead me to the study that day, the reason my father killed my mother. I have her blood running through me.

I'm a witch.

**A/N: that's the end- for now. I'll try to update this weekend if I can, but no promises.**

English translation for lullaby:

Go to sleep, go to sleepy  
In the arms of your mother,  
Go to sleep, lovely child,  
Go to sleepy, child so lovely,  
Go to sleep, go to sleepy  
In the arms of your mother.

Outfits of the Salvatores on profile!

Thanks a lot for reading (sorry again for the wait).

Review please!

AJ


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

How's this for a quicker update? Two weeks is better than months, right? Yeah, I'm surprised too. Anyway, what did you guys think of the last VD episode? I almost wanted to cry. And if you know me, you'll know that I NEVER cry. Ever.

Disclaimer: I don't own _The Vampire Diaries_. Any copyright infringement is unintentional. I only own the plotline and my OC, Vira.

R&R & Suggest to your friends, please! My other story, _Flight of the Tides_ has so many hits and reviews and alerts, it makes me happy, but this story is sadly lacking. Spread the word, guys!

I gasped, sharply. Damon must have felt my movement because he whispered in my ear, softly, "What's wrong?"

I shook my head, unable to form words. It seems my vocal chords had decided to become unresponsive.

"Vira?" He rubbed my back. "Not going to tell me?" I just barely managed a shake of my head and he sighed, picking up the almost unperceivable movement. "Alright." He kissed my forehead. "Whatever it is, sister… whatever you found today… I'm here for you. Always."

I sighed. It wasn't a question of trust. I never questioned Damon's honesty or reliability. He was my brother; he'd be there for me just like I'd be there for him through anything. I just wondered if we were in way over our heads.

It was dark by the time we arrived at Lockwood Manor. A servant –in my head, I scoffed at the word- opened the carriage door for us. I recognized the young man. He had curly hair and his blue eyes sparked with the innocence of youth. He held my hand and, with a wink and an impish smile, assisted me out of the carriage. As he bowed, his eyes glinted mischievously. I curtsied. As I dipped, I smiled and whispered, in a voice so low that none of the others could hear me, "It's good to see you again, Max."

"You as well, Princess."

Max was Evaline's nephew. He was 23 years old and had been working for the Lockwoods for 4 years. Previously, he worked on our manor with the horses. Max had often seen me sneaking off with Desdemona and, the good-humored young man he was, he'd always give me that same impish smile along with a wink and ask, "Sneaking off into Camelot, Princess?" And I'd laugh a nine-year-old's giggle and reply, with a grin, "My kingdom needs me, Max." It had become a routine between us. When mother died, father sent him away. It'd been painful. Max was as a good friend and he was a lot like a brother, but perhaps not as close as Damon. I came to visit him often, under the façade of visiting George Lockwood. From what I'd heard, the Lockwoods didn't treat him well. It infuriated me because Max was a lovely person. He has his quirks, but he didn't deserve cruelty.

When my father and brothers were safely out of the carriage, we strolled up to the house. Max opened the door for us. "Welcome to Lockwood Manor. Mister, Mistress, and Master Lockwood await you in the parlor, sirs and ma'am."

"Thank you," my father said, stiffly, speaking up for the first time since we were at the house. The time in the carriage had been occupied with silent, angry glares.

"Thank you, Max," I whispered, sincerely, unlike my father.

He winked. "Anytime, Princess."

I rolled my eyes. Max knew good and well that I was no princess. He had always called me that, ever since we'd met when I was six, and for the longest time it had annoyed me. I didn't like being referred to as "Princess" simply because my father had more money than most. I'd confronted Max about it, but he'd adamantly reassured me it was just the opposite. "A princess," he'd said, "Must be well acquainted with her people, she must be loving, caring, and polite, and, most importantly, she must have long, curly hair." I'd laughed and responded, "So, if I straightened my hair…" and he'd gotten a serious look on his face. "Don't ever change how you look, Vira." I'd been shocked. For the first time, he'd used my name. I had more questions about why I shouldn't change, but I knew better than to bring it up again, and so "Princess" stuck.

The Lockwoods met us in the parlor, just as Max said. Mister and Mistress Lockwood had an air of indifferent stiffness around them, but George stared at me hungrily. I scoffed. _This is _not_ what I need right now._ I glared at him as he ogled me.

"Welcome, Salvatores!" Mr. Lockwood said upon our arrival. He shook hands with Father, Damon and Stefan, then kissed mine. This was repeated by his son, who held on to my hand for way too long. Mrs. Lockwood gave me an air kiss while the males of the family kissed her hand.

"Thank you for inviting us into your home, Mayor," Stefan said. I snorted. Did he always have to play the "model child" role? He glared at me.

"Vira! Be polite!" he berated me.

I just smirked and replied in a snarky tone. "Polite I'll be, but never shall I become a _drone_." I heard two smothered laughs, a sharp intake of breath, and a growl. The gasp had come from Mrs. Lockwood, the growl from my father and the two muffled laughs from Max and Damon. Stefan just gaped at me, stunned by my blunt rebellion.

"Elvira Guinevere!" Father snapped.

"Yes father?" I turned to him, asking with doe eyes.

He was spitting fire. "I will not have you mouthing off to our hosts!" His face was scrunched up and his ears were tinged red. I could almost _see_ his blood boiling. I would have laughed if I didn't need to keep up my façade.

"But I wasn't making fun of _them_, Father. It was directed towards Stefan." My voice still held a fake childhood innocence that was lost the day my father killed my mother. Now that I knew about it, there was no way in heaven or hell I was going to respect him- or pretend to.

"Young lady!" _Here we go._ "No respectful girl of this time would behave in that way, especially not _my _daughter! I don't know where I went wrong in raising you!" He took a deep breath and attempted to calm himself; even though it was evident he was anything but. "I'm sorry, Mayor, but I'm afraid I must cancel our dinner to deal with my daughter's newfound disrespect."

"Of course." He nodded politely at Father. Mrs. Lockwood got a look in her eye that she couldn't wait to tell Mrs. Forbes and Mrs. Fell about the Salvatore's insubordinate daughter. Good.

Father grabbed my arm rather roughly and started walking forcefully outside. Max gave me a proud look as I was dragged out the door. We walked across the grounds to the carriage. Father must have been furious because he didn't even demand for a servant to open the door. He shoved me in rather roughly. "You do not disrespect me like that! You do not get to embarrass me in front of anyone, _especially _the mayor."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever you say, Father," I said, sarcasm entangling the words into a knot that can never be undone. "I live to obey you. Your wish is my command."

He snarled at me, spitting fire. "That's it! You will be going to Rosewood Ladies Academy next term and you will stay there until you learn to act like a proper lady!" 

"Oh, I know how to act like one." I gave a demonstration, pretending to hold a cup of tea with my pinky high, sticking my nose in the air and crossing my ankles. Damon looked as if he couldn't decide whether to be worried or proud, but Father didn't find the situation amusing in the slightest.

_Whack!_

I gasped, holding my cheek tenderly in my hand. Had he really just hit me? _Me? _His own _daughter?_

_Well, why not?_ My subconscious asked. _He was willing to kill his own wife._

Damon reached over and touched my face delicately with his soft hand. "Vira, are you alright?" his gentle voice asked.

I met his eyes. Tears gathered, threatening to fall as the stinging set in. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into him so that I was leaning against his chest. Father saw this and was furious.

"You choose to side with your sister and contradict your father the same as her? That's treason!" he seethed.

"No," Damon said, anger leaking into his voice. "Choosing to hit your daughter is treason. Helping my sister is being a good brother."

So that's it for this chapter. Next one will be up soon, I hope, but I still have my other story _Flight of the Tides_ to work on, and I'm really enjoying that one. I've hit a writing mode in my life and I just can't stop. It's all I've been doing: Write, write, write.

Until next time.

AJ


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: hey, so a little over a month… not bad, right?**

**January 5****th**** can't come soon enough…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**The Vampire Diaries**_** or its characters, just Vira and the plotline.**

**Vira**

I took a step out of the carriage and stumbled over the hem of my dress. Damon, who had gotten out behind me grabbed my waist to steady me. Despite protests from both Father and me, he picked me up and carried me up to my room. I wiggled, trying to get out of his grasp but I was out of it and didn't have any leverage against him. Besides, my brother was seventeen and strong. The only way I could have bested him at strength was if he were drunk. He kicked the door open with his foot and then sat me down on the bed. Evaline came in soon after and pushed him away while she helped me get changed. Before leaving, Damon kissed my forehead. I just sat staring without knowing what I was looking at as Evaline stood me up and unlaced my dress. She slipped a nightgown over my head before leaving the room with a whispered explanation. I heard her footsteps return minutes later and something soft and cold was pressed against my cheek. When I shot a glance, I saw Evaline's worried face and a dark steak touching my face.

"For the bruising," she whispered. For the next few minutes, she attempted to pry information out of me. She tried sympathy, scolding, scowling, and small talk. Nothing would get me to open my mouth and talk to her. I was barely aware of my bedroom door opening. I hear whispers then felt a press of soft, wrinkled lips upon my head and then Evaline was gone, replaced by Damon.

"Vira," he said softly. "Talk to me, sister."

Talk to him? I couldn't get my voice to work for a single word, let alone carry out a conversation. Damon seemed to realize this and sat in silence while I gathered control of myself. He tended to my cheek and when there was no more to be done, he wiped my face with a cloth then wrapped the steak in a towel which he rested on my bedside table. Then he sat next to me on the bed and put a comforting arm around me. Unconsciously, I leaned into him, finding some kind of solace in my brother's arms even though not even Damon could stop the tears. After a few minutes of silence, he began to talk to me- about unimportant things, such as the incessant approaches of Jessamine Forbes, her billdungsroman ball, how Stefan's new haircut made him look "as toady as a puppy", and even how he was going to smash George Lockwood's face in for looking at me like I was a "seductress that he wanted to desolate". This lured a small, quiet laugh from my lips. Damon smiled, pleased.

"So she does have a voice, after all… it's a miracle!" He teased lightly.

Through my tears, I smiled at his antics. When I gathered the courage to speak, my voice was moist like the tears I'd been crying had pooled into my throat. "When you do beat him, can I watch?"

Damon grinned. "What kind of brother would I be if I let my innocent little sister watch a fight?"

My answer came in an instant. "The best kind."

"Well, I don't want to deny you "the best kind" of brother- just remember, those were your words, not mine- so, my darling, of course you can watch." He smirked at me and I rolled my eyes, used to his arrogance.

"Good," I mumbled, resting my head on his shoulder.

"Are you going to talk to me now, mia principessa?" he asked me softly.

I smiled at the term. Damon, much like Max, often considered me a princess. My long hair and curls did nothing to stop either of them from teasing me. I nodded, and Damon waited patiently. "I'm thinking," I said. "I don't really know how to say this."

"Take your time," he said kindly.

I took a deep breath, thinking about everything I'd learned today. The words on the pages of Tabby Nash and Annabelle and Marianne... the lullabuy, the memory of my mother singing... and my pressing epiphany. Collecting my thoughts, I began to speak.

"This morning, I took Desdemona out to our meadow in the forest and read mother's journal. It talked about her childhood and when she first met her grandmother, Tabby Nash. She told her... she told her she was a witch, and that every woman in the Nash family had been for centuries. So Mom went to live with her and they trained together. After a few years, she died. Mom was heartbroken and then she met Annabell... she was a vampire living in the villiage. They became friends, I think, and Mom wrote about her a lot. I haven't read the entire thing, but it tells the story of everything that happened to her since she found out she was a witch on her fifteenth birthday!" I rambled on and on about everything I'd learned. I probably should have stopped at some point to let Damon comment, which I knew he wanted to, but the momentum had me running my mouth. "And that's not all. In the carriage, I had a memory of Mom singing that song to me- you know, the Italian lullabuy?- and she said I had her blood in me. _Her power._"

Damon looked at me. "Does that mean-?" I nodded. His mouth formed the word "wow".

I continued talking, the biggest problem of the night on my mind. "She was just like me, Damon, but older and braver. Her mother died when she was young and she found out about her heritage later than she should've and-" I cut off, breaking into a sob when I talked about the final part of our mirrored situation. "Her father didn't like her so he sent her away."

Damon looked up at me sharply then drew me into a fierce hug. "Don't you dare think like that. You are the bravest girl I know. Not many people would defy father and go into his study, let alone steal from it then sneak off to read it, and no one but you could pull it off without getting caught. And don't worry about being sent away. We'll figure something out. I promise, mia principessa," he emphasized his last point with a kiss on my head.

"He's going to do it, Damon. He's going to send me up to that horrid school in Rosewood, where I'll be taught by old ladies and I won't have any freedom!"

"No, Vira. Everyone here loves you. We'll find a way." He sounded so sure that I almost believed him, but knew better.

I laughed humorlessly. "Please. The only people here that love me have no power and can do nothing to stop Father."

Damon pulled back from our embrace to look into my eyes. "What happened to you? Huh? What happened to my sunny little principessa that believes that everyone can be whoever they want, no matter who they are? What about Harper and Evaline and Max and Andre? And me, huh? I won't let you go, sister. I promise."

"Don't make promisses you can't keep. Father will stop at nothing to send me to Rosewood. You can't stop him and neither can I."

Something came over him, then. It was something I hadn't seen since my mother died. Something like steely determination. "Listen to me," he said firmly. "You are my baby sister and _ I will protect you. _Do you understand me, _principessa?_ I will protect you. Always."

A tear leaked from my eye and I fell into Damon's embrace lying there until we both fell asleep, dreams of the future and the past haunting my mind.

**A/N: so that's the end of part one. I've got some pretty cool chapters coming up. This is where it begins to get interesting. Next update in... two weeks.**

**Thanks for reading. Review please!**

**AJ**


	8. Chapter 8

Family Portrait

MIA for 3 months? What's wrong with me? Oh, well. I'm back and part 2 starts now.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries

Vira tugged uncomfortable at her gray tunic. It had been itching her all day and she hated it. She sifted in her seat, trying to get a bit more comfortable. Everything about this place had her on edge- the gray uniforms, the required tight hair buns, the stiff, cold stone seats, and, most of all, the gray-haired old women that taught here. It wouldn't be so bad if they taught things like literature or science or politics or _something _interesting. But instead, they taught classes that covered crocheting and poise and how to be a good wife to your future husband. It made her sick.

Damon hadn't been able to stop her father. He tried. He tried the best he could, but Father had threatened to send her to an orphanage in New York instead so they'd never see each other again, and Damon was forced to back off. So, she was sent to Roseville Ladies Academy, where she had been for three months.

It was the beginning of March when things began to change for her. A new family moved to town. Their youngest girl was going to be attending the school and was going to be Vira's new roommate. No longer would she have to stare at the four gray walls and the empty bed next to hers. Now she would have someone to talk to. But if this girl turned out to be just another boring drone, she would be disappointed.

It was about nine o'clock in the evening when one of the teachers knocked on Vira's door. She hastily put on her robe and opened is. "Madame Dubois," Vira said, startled. "How may I help you?" she asked, hating the formal way she spoke, but she learned a long time ago not to speak with the teachers the way she did her friends.

"Ah, Miss Salvatore, good. You're awake," Madame Dubois said. "I want to introduce you to someone. "This is Annabelle Chén. She's going to be your new roommate. You are to treat her the same as the rest of the sisters here in the Academy. I trust you will inform her of our policy here at Roseville Ladies Academy. Goodnight."

Then Madame Dubois left the girl standing in the hallway, black hair dripping from the rain, with one trunk that was going to be soaked. Vira quickly ushered the girl inside. "You can put your things in the closet," she said, nodding her head towards it as she closed the door. She turned around. "Elvira Salvatore," she said, extending her hand, before realizing she shouldn't have done that, because girls are supposed to curtsy when they meet. Before she could do anything, however, the girl was shaking her hand firmly.

"Annabelle Chén. But you can call me Anna," she said with a smile.

When their hands touched, Vira felt some dark presence. She'd never felt it before but whatever it was, it was really bad. She swallowed the feeling. "Vira."

"So, are all the teachers here as stiff as Madame Du-Blah?" she asked.

Vira laughed for the first time in three months. "Actually, she's probably the best of them. At least she calls me Elvira and not 'Miss Salvatore'."

Anna groaned. "Great. Well, this isn't going to be fun."

"Welcome to Roseville," she said sarcastically.

Anna looked around the room. "Hey, do you have a spare towel or something that I can dry my hair off with?"

"Oh, yeah!" She said, hopping up off the bed. She reached into a cabinet and handed her one of the plain, thin white towels. "Here you go."

"Thanks," she said, squeezing the water out of her hair.

"So," Vira said, sitting back down on her bed. "Where are you from?"

"Maryland," she said. "Originally. But I just moved here from Boston. What about you?"

"I'm from Virginia, a town about four days traveling from here."

"So why are you here, then?"

Vira rolled her eyes. "My father didn't like my 'un-ladylike behavior', so he sent me here to learn how to be more proper."

Anna smiled. "That's awful. What about your mom?"

Vira's breath caught. "She- uh," she said, looking down at her hands. "She died when I was nine."

"I'm sorry," the Asian girl said. "I lost my father when I was little, too."

Vira wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "W-we better get to sleep. Goodnight, Anna," she said, as she blew out the only lit candle in the room with a huff of breath.

"Goodnight, Vira."

The next day, Anna and Vira went through the day of classes, talking amicably, despite the glares of the other girls and the teachers. When their backs were turned, they made silly faces that mimicked the stern expressions of the old ladies. Vira found herself smiling for the first time since she'd been separated from her friends three months ago.

They were in crocheting class when it happened. Vira was laughing at some quirky comment that Anna had made, she couldn't even remember anymore, when her hand jerked and the needle she was using sliced open her finger, letting out a small stream of blood from her finger. She hissed and brought it to her mouth, sucking on the blood, before removing it. "Man, that was clumsy," she said. She snuck a glance up to her new friend and saw that her veins were protruding from under her eyes and she was staring at the blood still running down her finger. "Anna?" Vira asked tentatively. "Are you okay?"

That seemed to trigger something in her and she turned her head away, hiding her face. "I'm fine," she said.

But Vira couldn't stop thinking about the look in her eyes. It was…. _Hungry_.

The day continued until lunch, when Anna snuck off somewhere and Vira made her way back to her room, wanting to escape the tea talk. When she got there, she reached under her bed and pulled out her trunk. She started digging and there it was. Beneath the letters from Damon and drawings and dresses was her mother's grimoire. She opened it and flipped through the pages of her mother's life with the Nash's, when I finally got to the entry I was looking for.

_May 23, 1828_

_ Tonight has been horrible. I met a girl. Katherine. Anna says she's friends with her mom. She's a vampire. She gives off the worst kind of feeling. There was a man with her. A boy, really. He followed her around like she was the only thing he lived for. She was drinking his blood. Her eyes… they were black. Her veins stuck out and… the blood dripped on her face. When she saw me, she didn't even bother to wipe herself off, she just smiled at me and said, "You must be Josephine. I've heard all about you." It's times like these when I wish Tabby was still here to help me._

_ Josephine_

Vira started, staring at the words. "_Black eyes… veins stuck out… _Anna." Everything started to click into place for her. Anna couldn't be- could she? Then she remembered that deathly feeling she'd gotten last night when she shook her hand and everything made sense.

There were footsteps outside her door and Vira hurriedly shoved the book back into the trunk and then under her bed just as the door creaked open. She turned and saw Anna, her eyes back to normal, an amused smile on her face as she saw Vira's disheveled appearance. "What happened to you?" she asked with a smirk.

Vira took a breath. She shouldn't be doing this. She knew it was trouble but something inside of her couldn't hold the question back from her lips. "Did you ever know a girl named Josephine Nash?"

So, yeah, maybe she hadn't directly asked Anna if she was a vampire but she might as well have. Anna froze. "What?"

Vira continued. "Your eyes were dark earlier, when you saw my blood. Your veins came out. Are you okay?"

Anna stammered. "Y-yes. I- I'm f-fine."

Vira stood up from her crouch. "Anna. I'm going to ask you something and I want you to be one hundred percent honest with me. I'm not going to judge you, or run away, or scream, or anything else, okay?"

Anna looked into her eyes. "What is it?"

Vira took a long, deep breath. "Are you a vampire, Anna?"

She nodded. "How did you know?"

"The eyes, your reaction to blood, and… something else. _Did _you know Josephine Nash, Anna?"

She nodded. "Many years ago, yes. She was a friend of mine. But we only stayed in that village for a year. I haven't seen her in… twenty years or so. I don't even know what happened to her."

Vira closed her eyes. "She grew up. She was sent back to her father after her aunt died. She was forced into a marriage she didn't want. She moved to Virginia, had three kids, and then she was killed by her own husband when he found out she was a witch."

Anna gasped. "Oh, my god," she said, a hand over her mouth, sitting down on her bed. "How do you know this?"

"Her oldest son was named Damon," she said as if Anna had never spoken. "Her youngest was named Stefan. Her middle child was a daughter. Her name was Elvira."

"Vira," Anna said. "Oh, my god. You're her daughter."

She nodded. "She wrote about you. In her grimoire."

Anna shook her head. "I- I don't understand. You're not scared of me?"

"You were a friend of my mother. She trusted you and you never harmed her. Don't think you'll hurt me either. Am I right?"

She nodded. "You're right. Have you been training?" she asked. "You have her power, don't you?"

Vira nodded. "I do. And no, I haven't been. Right after I found out my mother was a witch, my father sent me here and, in case you haven't noticed, there's not many ways to practice spells here. It's like a prison."

Anna took a deep shuddery breath. "I can help you," she said. "If you want. I mean-" she stopped, trying to compose herself. "I helped your mother. I know how to get out of here at night. I can help you train."

"Would you really do that?"

Anna nodded. "I could ask my mom to get you the herbs you need for spells and everything else."

Vira nodded. "I think I'd like that." She smiled hesitantly.

Anna nodded and they sat in silence before Anna spoke up again a few minutes later. "You look like her."

"Who?" Vira asked.

"Your mother. You have her eyes."

**A/N: I feel accomplished. I've updated all my in-progress stories this weekend. Review!**


End file.
